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arms, and all four were soon out of Missolonghi, and They had walked nearly two days since the adve". in the midst of her heroic defenders.
ture, along the straight roads hastily constructed by But a deserter, in the mean time, had basely informed the Turks, and in the middle of a desolated country, Ibrahim of the intended sally of the Greeks, and he here and there meeting on their path with Greek famiaccordingly opposed the whole army to them. The lies, who, terrified at the disasters of their immortal centre of the Greek body was driven back into the fortress, filed in all directions towards the mountains. city, the left wing gave way, and the right was in great Wandering, however, in their route, they had only part massacred ; a few hundreds only among the last reached the ruins of ancient Calydon, situated a few were enabled to reach the mount, to which they were leagues from Missolonghi. A humble cabin stood in pursued by the Turkish horsemen.
the middle of these ruins ; but Raymond hesitated to Raymond escaped the general destruction with his claim hospitality for his weak companion in a country tender charge, who had fainted in his arms. He so near the camp of the Turks, when these words, placed her on a projecting rock, and endeavoured to chaunted in modern Greek, struck his ear, apprising recal her to life ; she at length recovered, and with a him that a friend of the Hellenists inhabited the timid and anxious look surveyed the objects around humble cabin. her. They were alone. Maximilian and the elder “ He dies, the traitor ! he flies. He drags after him sister-all, indeed-had disappeared. They were in his dark and envenomed arms; his bosom is changed the midst of a barren and uncultivated waste ; the into a hideous hell. road before them was mountainous and rugged, nor “ He has left behind, the cross and the courageous could they perceive a habitation or a living creature Greekshe has presented, in token of friendship, his near them.
hand to the Ottomans he has prostrated himself beWhy have they spared my miserable existence ?" fore a barbarous law. exclaimed the young nun, with a deep-felt grief.
“ A livid and black cloud, suspended in the air, ac“ Alas !” replied the unfortunate Raymond, in a companies him, like an immoveable thunderbolt over tone of affection, “ do not let your complaints make his head, and the watchful vigilance of destiny. me regret my having saved you."
“ Infamous renegade! If, fatigued by thy rapid “Are they all, then, fallen victims to the Mussul- flight, thou castest thyself upon the grass to rest, man sword ?"
avenging conscience lies by thy side, and changes the As she uttered these words, a tremendous explosion herbage which surrounds thee into livid serpents. threw her into the utmost consternation. The earth “ Thou shunnest the light of day, fearing lest the shook and opened wide on the spot where the lovers long swords of the men thou hast slain should discover stood.
thee. In this moment of extreme danger, Raymond, taking “ Thou callest night to thy assistance ; she comesthe young nun in his arms, and excited by uncontrolla- but thou thinkest that armed enemies are enveloped in ble passion, revealed the love which he felt for her. her shade, and thou remainest struck with stupor. “ Heaven have pity on me!” exclaimed the timid “ If thou hearest the groans of a widow in grief, or virgin; and escaping, with an effort, from the arms of the cries of an orphan child, thou tremblest, and the Raymond, she fled fearfully into the surrounding cup falls from thy frozen lips. country. Raymond followed and overtook her. “Be- “Oh, what a frightful life thou hast procured thyloved of my soul,” said he, “ fear not my passion ; it self, infamous renegade! The Divinity prepares such is pure as yourself—it is chaste as the sentiments which gifts for all who resemble thee." animate you. Ah! Ay not-turn not from me that The noise which Raymond and Julia made in aplook from which I draw existence-hear me-hear my proaching the cabin, interrupted this chant; the moun. vows--believe meếtrust yourself to me-love is only taineer, fearing to be surprised by some enemy, trema vice in vicious hearts." “God has received my vows, blingly rushed from his dwelling; but after, looking replied the virgin ; “ God rejects such offerings; I at Julia, and perceiving the cross which hung upon have loved, I love yet," added she, shedding a torrent her bosom, he immediately recognised, in the two of tears. “ Since you have torn the secret from me, travellers, friends of his own distressed country. be my brother, my protector ; drive me not to despair “ I see by your dress,” said he to them,“ that you by the continuance of a love which I can never return." are not the offspring of Greece ; what seek you in this At these words, Raymond let fall the hand of the fair solitude ?" girl, which, till then, he held pressed to his bosom. “ Lutetia is our country. We have escaped from He walked by her side in silence, respectfully con- Missolonghi," said Raymond ; " chance led us among templating the lonely maiden, who, like a flower touched these ruins. I lament a friend I beg hospitality for by a ploughshare, or like the poppy after a stormy my young companion.” night, languidly bowed her head in grief.
" Come into my cabin, wreck of Missolonghi," said Julia, which was the name of the young sister of the mountaineer, taking them enthusiastically by the charity, loved Ernestus, and was loved in turn, Op. | hand, “ come and repose yourselves ; take a part of the posed in her affections by an ambitious father, she had little food left by the greedy Ottomans for my feeble taken the veil, and her lover in despair had banished frame.” himself from his native country. Rayniond having re- “ Do you know any thing of the heroic city ?'' said ceived this communication from the mouth of Julia, the trembling nun. immediately recognized in Ernestus the friend of his “ From hence I can show you the ruins of that youth; and borne down by his misfortunes, besieged glorious city.
glorious city. That pile of confusedly heaped columns by more terrible remembrances, the Exile notwith- was the temple of the Christians; it was there, for the standing found consolation for the unfortunate nun. last time, a venerable prelate celebrated the holy sacri.
fice before warriors covered with blood and wounds, and before women and children sinking with want.
“ The heap of rubbish that you perceive in the midst of that place, are the remains of the powder magazine, under which are interred our wives, our children, and the virtuous Capsalis, primate of Missolonghi. What a sublime death! Let us not weep! we have no more separations to fear-the tomb and heaven will soon re-unite all. Mothers tranquilly pressed their children to their bosoms, relying upon Capsalis. The enemy were gathered in crowds around this asylum; some tried to break open the doors, others to scale the windows, while some were upon the roof, endeavouring to break through into the interior. Capsalis, seeing the multitude assembled, commenced a prayer familiar to the Greeks, · Save us, Lord !' and at that moment the powder magazine was reduced to ashes. The report was so loud," added the old man, " that it shook the neighbouring buildings; and the sea, swelling above its bounds, entirely inundated one quarter of the city. Two thousand barbarians perished with Capsalis."
"It is under those ruins then, without doubt, my unfortunate sister died,” cried the agonized Julia.
“I perceive the ruins of a gate," replied Raymond. “ It is that,” said the old man,” by which the cohort of our brave comrades went forth, when they marched to the achievement of Liberty or Death.”
" It was on that plain,” said Raymond, " that Maximilian, protecting me in my fight against a cloud of barbarians, devoted himself for the safety of his friend."
“It is I who was the cause of his death,” bitterly exclaimed the nun. “ It was to cover my retreat, that your friend was sacrificed ; it was to save me, that you yourself could not come to the defence of Maximilian."
"Honoured be those,” said the old man, addressing Raymond, "of thy compatriots who fell under the walls of Missolonghi, While I think of the heroism of those warriors, whom their country exiled, I forget that there are other Frenchmen, other Christians, who gird on the turban."
"Stop, old man,” exclaimed the excited Raymond ; cease to calumniate France: the cowards who assume the turban are not her children: she has driven them far from her she has cursed them.”
They then entered the cabin, when a noise of horses was heard. “ It is the Renegade," exclaimed the mountaineer; and he fled tremblingly towards the ruins.
The Renegade advanced, followed by a numerous escort. The large oriental trowsers, the immense turban, the curved scymetar, had displaced the costume of his country, and would have rendered him unrecognizable, even to the eye of a brother. In taking the costume of the southerns, he had made it a principle to imitate their fury and their cruelty. He was renowned through the whole of Greece for his courage, and his contempt of death. Always in the first rank he overcame a host of enemies and the plume upon his turban always shone where the massacre was most general, or the combatants fought face to face.
As soon as he perceived Raymond and the young nun, this new servant of Mahomet ran towards them. A berce joy shone in his face. It was with delight he again expected to shed the blood of the worshippers
NO XXXXII. VOL. IV.
of a God whom he had renounced, and whom he blasphemed.
The Exile drew his sabre, and, throwing himself before Julia, intrepidly attacked the Renegade. Already he had inflicted on him two terrible wounds, and victory seemed to be his, when, surrounded by a crowd of Musulmans, oppressed by numbers he received a mortal wound, and fell at the feet of his enemy, who immediately recognized in Raymond an old companion in arms, whose friendship had been in former times cherished by him. At this sight he involuntarily trembled, and heard within himself the terrible voice of remorse. He descended from his horse, and approached the wounded man, who appeared to be suffering the extremity of pain, and near whom Julia was standing endeavouring to stanch the blood which flowed abundantly from his wounds. Raymond recognized not the Renegade ; he spoke to him, and at the sound of his voice, the nun fell fainting on the bleeding body of her intrepid defender, In the murderer of the Exile she beheld her Ernestus! He ran to her, tore away the veil which concealed her figure, and discovered Julia. A convulsive movement seized him; he caught again the shining scymetar, which he had cast on the ground, and was directing it towards his breast, to terminate his guilty existence, when, all at once, he heard his men cry “To arms!”-It was the old mountaineer who was approaching, followed by Maximilian and some French. For the first time the Renegade replied not to the signal of carnage. The Mussulmans were dispersed by the brave Maximilian; and Ernestus, wishing to perish, offered himself without defence to the sabres of the conquerors, when Julia, placing herself before her former loyer, arrested the blow which would have terminated his existence. But the Renegade could not support an existence charged with opprobrium : he flew towards his protectress, pressed her in his arms, abjured his deadly error, demanded her pardon, and, snatching off the bandage which had been hastily placed on his wounds fell lifeless on the inanimate body of the Exile. Maximilian with difficulty tore Julia from this scene of desolation, and conducted her to Tripolizza; where, in a hospital, she shared her time between the service of the sick, and the tears given to her lover and to the Exile. Maximilian remains in the service of Greece, and revenges the death of his friend by the destruction of the infidels.
HE DID NOT LEAD HER FORTH TO
A Ballad of the “ Beau Monde,” by J. E, CARPENTER,
But linger'd at her side,
To be another's bride;
Would dim ber laugbing eye,
She fear'd a father's angry frown,
Knew a proud brother's hate, And when the stranger bridegroom came He found her desolate;
There were no smiles to welcome bim,
the little lame girl. A book, if she could borrow one, No voice of mirth to tell, The joyous heart-no ling'ring look
if not, knitting or working for her good aunt Rachael, Whene'er he breath'd “ farewell."
was her only pastime. She had no troop of play
fellows, no chosen companions,-joined in none of the Time pass'd-and when he came again To his affianced bride,
innocent cabal or mischievous mirth of her comrades; He told her of his honsehold band,
and yet every one liked Olive, even although cited by His splendour and his pride;
her mistress as a pattern of sempstresship and good He led her to the altar-hope
conduct—even although held up as that odious thing, From ev'ry heart had flown,
a model-no one could help loving poor Olive, so enAnd then one from amid the throng Proclaim'd her as his own.
tirely did her sweetness and humility disarm envy and
mollify scorn. On leaving school, she brought home OLIVE HATHAWAY.
the same good qualities, and found them attended by
the same results. To Rachael Strong, her assistance A VILLAGE SKETCH-BY MISS MITPORD.
soon became invaluable. There was not such an ironer (From the “ Pledge of Friendship.'')
in the county. One could swear to the touch of her One of the principal charms of this North of Hamp
skilful fingers, whether in disentangling the delicate shire county consists in the infinite variety of woody
complexity of a point lace cap, or in bringing out the lanes, which wind along from farm to farm, and from
bolder beauties of a cut-work collar,-one could swear field to field, intersecting each other with an intricacy
to her handy-work just as safely as a bank-clerk may 10 perplexing, and meandering with such a surprising do to the calligraphy of a monied man on Change, or round-aboutness, that one often seems turning one's an amateur in art to the handling of a great master. back directly on the spot to which one is bound. For There was no mistaking her touch. Things ironed by the most part, these rough and narrow ways, devoted her looked as good as new, some said better; and her merely to agricultural purposes, are altogether un- aunt's trade throve apace. But Olive had a trade of peopled, although here and there a lone barn forms a her own. Besides her accomplishments as a laundress, characteristic termination to some winding lane, or a she was an incomparable needle woman; could consolitary habitation adds a fresh interest to the picture. struct a shirt between sunrise and sunset ; had a genuine These lanes, with their rich hedge-rows, their slips of genius for mantua-making ; a real taste for millinery; flowery greensward, and their profound feeling of secu- was employed in half the houses round as a sempstress, rity and retirement, have long been amongst my favorite at the rate of eightpence a day; devoting by far the walks ; and Farley-lane is, perhaps, the prettiest and greater part of her small earnings to the comforts of pleasantest of all—the shadiest in warm weather, and her father, a settled inhabitant of the workhouse at the most sheltered in cold, and appears doubly delight. Aberleigh. A harmless and a willing creature was ful by the transition from the exposed and open com
poor William Hathaway; aye, and a useful one in his mon from which it leads. It is a deep, narrow, unfre- little way; for my part, I cannot think what they would quented road, by the side of a steep hill, winding have done without him at the workhouse, where he between small enclosures of pasture-land on one side, filled the several departments of man and maid of alland the grounds of the great house, with their picturesque work, digging the garden, dressing the dinner, running paling and rich plantations, on the other; the depth on errands, and making the beds. Still less can I ima. and undulations of the wild cart-track giving a singular- gine how the boys could have dispensed with him; the ly romantic and secluded air to the whole scene, whilst ten-year old urchins, with whom he played at cricket occasionally the ivied pollards and shining holly- every evening, and where the kind and simple old man, bushes of the hedge-row mingle with the laurels and with his lean tall person, his pale withered face, and cedars and fine old firs of the park, forming, even in grizzled beard, was the fag and favorite of the party, mid-winter, a green arch over head, and contrasting the poisiest and merriest of the crew. A useful and a vividly with a little sparkling spring, which runs gurg- happy man was poor William Hathaway, albeit the ling along by the side of the pathway. Towards the proud and the worldly wise hold him in scorn ; happiest centre of the lane rises an irregular thatched cottage, of all on the Sunday afternoons, when he came to dine with a spacious territory of garden and orchard, to with his daughter and her good aunt Rachael, and rewhich you ascend, first by a single plank thrown across ceive the pious dole, the hoarded half-pence, or the the tiny rivulet, and then by five or six steep steps cut in “ splendid shilling,” which it was her delight to accuthe bank—an earthen staircase. This has been, as mulate for bis little pleasures, and which he, child-like long as I can remember, the habitation of old Rachael in all his ways, spent like a child, on cakes and ginger-, Strong, a laundress of the highest reputation in Aber- bread. There was no fear of the source failing; for leigh, and of her young neice, Olive Hathaway. It is gentle, placid, grateful and humble, considerate beyond just possible that my liking for the latter of these per- her years, and skilful far beyond her opportunities, sonages may have somewhat biassed my opinion of the every one liked to employ Olive Hathaway. The very beauty of Farley lane. Olive Hathaway has always sound of her crutch in the court, and her modest tap at appeared to me a very interesting creature. Lame from the door, inspired a kindly, almost a tender, feeling for her earliest childhood, and worse than an orphan,—her the afflicted and defenceless young creature whom pamother being dead, and her father, from mental infir- tience and industry were floating so gently down the mity, incapable of supplying her place, she seemed rough stream of life. Her person, when seated was far prematurely devoted to care and suffering. Always from unpleasant, though shrunken and thin from deligentle and placid, no one ever remembered to have seen cacy of habit, and slightly leaning to one side, from Olive gay. Even that merriest of all hours—the noon- the constant use of the crutch. Her face was interesting day play-time at school-passed gravely and sadly with from feature and expression, in spite of the dark and
perfectly colourless complexion, which gave her the ance of every four-footed creature in the neighbourhood. appearance of being much older than she really was. This is the most suspicious symptom of all. Not only Her eyes, especially, were full of sweetness and power, is she followed and idolized by the poor old cur which and her long straight hair, parted on the forehead, and Rachael Strong keeps to guard her house, and the still twisted into a thick knot behind, gave a statue-like more aged donkey that carries home her linen, but every grace to her head, that accorded ill with the coarse cat, dog, or bird, every variety of domestic pet that she straw bonnet and brown stuff gown, of which her dress finds in the different houses where she works, immewas usually composed. There was, in truth, a some- diately following the strange instinct by which animals, thing, elegant and refined in her countenance; and the as well as children, discover who likes them, makes up taste that she displayed, even in the homeliest branches to and courts Olive Hathaway. For her doth Farmer of her own homely art, fully sustained the impression
Brookes’s mastiff-surliest of watch dogs~-pretermit produced by her appearance. If any of our pretty his incessant bark ; for her, and for her only, will Dame damsels wanted a particularly pretty gown, she had only Wheeler's tabby cease to spit and erect her bristles, and to say to Olive, “make it according to your own fancy;" become, as nearly as a spiteful cat can become so, gentle and she was sure to be arrayed, not only in the very and amiable! even the magpie at the Rose, most accombest fashion, (for our little mantua-maker had an in- plished and most capricious of all talking birds, will stinct which led her at once to the right model, and say, Very well ma'am," in answer to Olive's, “ How could distinguish at a glance between the elegance of a do you do?” and whistle an accompaniment to her countess and the finery of her maid,) but with the nicest “ God save the King," after having persevered in a attention to the becoming, both in colour and in form. dumb resentment for a whole afternoon.
There's a Her taste was equally just in all things. She would magic about her placid smile and her sweet low voiceselect, in a moment, the most beautiful flower in a no sulkiness of bird or beast can resist their influence garden, and the finest picture in a room; and going
And Olive hath abundance of pets in return, from my about, as she did, all over the village, hearing new greyhound, Mayflower, downwards; and, indeed, takes songs and new stories from the young, and old tales the whole animal world under her protection, whether and old ballads from the aged, it was remarkable that pets or no; begs off condemned kittens, nurses sick Olive, whose memory was singularly tenacious for what ducklings, will give her last penny to prevent an unshe liked, retained only the pretty lines or the striking lucky urchin from taking a bird's nest; and is cheated incidents. For the bad or the indifferent, she literally and laughed at for her tender-heartedness, as is the had no memory: they passed by her as the idle wind, way of the world in such cases. Yes, Olive will certhat she regarded not Her fondness for poetry, and tainly be an old maid, and a happy one—content and the justness of taste which she displayed in it, exposed humble, and cheerful and beloved!
What can woman
desire more? poor Olive to one serious inconvenience ; she was challenged as being a poetess herself; and although she denied the accusation earnestly, blushingly, and even
THE WIDOW. fearfully, and her accusers could bring neither living witnesses nor written document to support their asser- FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM, BY MRS. CAREY, tion, yet so difficult is it to disprove that particular calumny, that, in spite of her reiterated denial, the
Her cheek was pale,-and, in ber downcast eye, charge passes for true in Aberleigh to this very hour.
The tear of anguish trembled; while a sighHabit, however, reconciles all things ; people inay be- Heart-drawn, yet half suppressed-declar'd the woe, come accustomed even to that sad nick-name, an author.
Words could not speak. Her voice was faint and low,
And slow her step : for though her home was near, ess. In process of time, the imputed culprit ceased to
Joy dwelt not there ; since he, whose smile could cheer be shocked at the sound, seemed to have made up her Life's darkest hour, was gone.-He, the first choice mind to bear the accusation, and even to find some Of her young heart-who, erst, with look and voice amusement in its truth or its falsity; there was an arch
Of tend'rest love, would greet her-he now slept
The last cold sleep of death-and, as she wept and humorous consciousness in her eyes, on such occa
O'er blighted hopes, and joys for ever flown, sions, that might be construed either way, and left it an Creation seem'd a blank, where now she stood alone. even wager whether our little lame girl were a poetess
Yet was she not alone : for, in her arms, or not. Such was and such is Olive Hathaway, the
She clasp'd a blooming boy, whose op'ning charms humble and gentle village mantua-maker; and such she Struck on her heart, with that keen sense of woe is likely to continue ; for, too refined for the youths of That agony, which widow'd mothers know, her own station, and too unpretty to attract those above
When, as they gaze on infant Beauty's face,
Officious Mem'ry marks, and weeps, to trace her, it is very clear to me that my friend Olive will be
A husband's dear resemblance-when the smile an old maid. There are certain indications of character, (The winning smile, that gave to love's soft wile too, which point to that as her destiny: a particularity Resistless power) brings back to Fancy's view respecting her tools of office, which renders the mis
Bright scenes, where Rapture dwelt, when life and hope were placing a needle, the loss of a pin, or the unwinding half an inch of cotton, an evil of no small magnitude: a Ye happy wives, who see your children grow fidgetty exactness as to plaits and gathers, a counting of
Beneath a father's care! could you but know
A widow's anguish, when the silent tomb threads and comparing of patterns, which our notable
Closes on him she loved -and, 'mid the gloom housewives, who must complain of something, grumble That wraps futurity, no hope appears, at as waste of time; a horror of shreds and litter, To change the colour of those joyless years which distinguishes her from all other mantua-makers She yet may linger-could you but conceive
Sorrow like her's, you would not vainly griere that ever sewed a seam ; and, lastly, a love of animals,
For lighter evils; but (while still you share which has procured for her the friendship and acquaint- A husband's love, that balm for every care
To woman known) ponr fortlı your thanks to Heaven For wholesome trials past, and choicest blessings given.
Sweet is the home of love, where manly worth And female softness dwell! And—when the birth Of love's first pledge, more closely draws the tie By which fond hearts are link'd--when Beauty's eye Glist’ning throngh tears, fixes in new delight On the unconscious babe; while, at the sight, The husband's and the father's heart o'erflows With love unspeakable-oh! who, that knows The bliss of such an hour, shall say that Heaven Has, in this chequer'd scene, no full enjoyment given ?
Oh! there are feelings, exquisite and rare,
With all the warmth that youthful lovers knowAnd Hope avd Fancy on his pathway threw Flowers ever fresh, and pleasures ever new.
Bat Hope is dead, and Fancy's musings wild,
Or clasp her neck with sweet endearing wile, Shadd'ring she turns-for, oh! she dares not gaze On looks and smiles that charm'd in bappier days.
to place great value from the expensive nature of the material. The very prescribed limits of my letter must prevent me from entering into a description of the splendid varieties which strike the eye of the beholder ; the corset méchanique, however must be particularized, which, placed on an admirably executed female figure, by a most ingenious contrivance, is arranged, laced, and unlaced without any external assistance.
The Course de Chevaux at the Champ-de-Mars, early this month afforded almost the first opportunity of giving any account with respect to the tone of fashion, there had hitherto been so much indecision with regard to the reigning modes. The most gossamer-like fabrics of every kind appear to have all at once shewn themselves, like the ephemerides of summer starting into existence. The beautiful Italian straws are adorned with acacia branches, apple bloom, &c. feathers, or næuds of ribbons placed one over the other and on one side. Great richness of pattern predominates in the ribbons; those with green and white, rose and white, or blue and white checks have the most elegant effect with these and the rice straws.
Foulard robes with muslin canezous embellished with embroidery and deep lace are prevalent. With these and the mousseline de laine, a kind of dead or pearl grey form the ground to a great extent, though by many the preference is given to foulards with white ground on account of the difficulty that is found in imitating them in jaconas.
The opening of the Gardens of Tivoli has also afforded a field for much fashionable display, and offered its quota towards the enlivenment of Paris.
One of the greatest rages now with our gay Parisians is the steeple chase which is but a recent importation. The race course has been most successfully established, but the steeple chase from the enereased difficulties which it presents to the parties engaged, and the ex. treme interest to the spectators, is of all other amusements completely suited to the enthusiastic French temperament. It was at one of these courses near the aqueducts of Bac that all the splendor and fashion of Paris was congregated, and it was determined on all hands that nothing could possibly be better than a petition of these delightful steeple chases.
The élite of Paris were present at the Opera for the benefit of A. Nourrit, The splendor of the toilets on this occasion, has seldom been surpassed. Mousseline de soie, mousseline-jaconas in white was very much worn, the former stamped with the most delicate bouquets, was much employed for scarfs. Silks, satins and cachemeres may be said to have in a great degree disappeared from the decided fineness of the weather.
Some ladies, with the capote designated from its extreme lightness and elegance à la Taglioni, with its transparent tulle, its azure-blue ribbons and floating veil: appear to great advantage, it gives an almost fairylike effect.
The heat has greatly encreased within the last day or two and at the theatres and every place of pablic assembly, we perceive the very slightest possible fabrics only to enter into the composition of hats and capotes.
A. de C.
To the Editor of the Beau Monde.
May 20th 1834. I have scarcely thought since I sent you my last communication, that I should be enabled to give you any very interesting information with respect to fashionable changes. The weather has been either so decidedly bad or uncertain as to prevent that display of elegant summer fashions in which our “ Francaises" may be said so particularly to excel. We cannot on the other hand say that Paris has lost much of its animation and splendor from the annual drain of good company, for from the above mentioned as well other causes, we cannot by any means consider the ranks of fashion are as yet thinned.
The splendid rooms of the Museum have been in a manner deserted, for the very chaming and varied exhibition of the productions of our national industrysimilar in some respects, though on a scale of much greater magnificence and variety, to your national repository, at Charing Cross, which some time since I visited with so much pleasure.
Among the striking characteristics of our Parisian Exposition, is one, in which your readers will doubtless feel with me considerable interest—that of the immense collection of the products of our national industry, in the shape of Silk, Muslin, Lace, Velvet, Shawls, &c., some of them so exquisitely fine and valuable, as to go beyond the prices of the most expensive gold woven fabrics, and others, on which we have been accustomed